


The Scorpion's Kiss

by Neila_Nuruodo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Vampire Hunter Warrior of Light, Vampire Nabriales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 01:17:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20986418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo
Summary: The Warrior of Light is a fledgling vampire hunter, recruited by the Scions because of her gift, which allows her to sense vampires and grants her a measure of protection against them.  When she senses a vampire at a social gathering intended to win support for the Scions' mission, she knows she has to intervene.  She's confident she can take on this "Nabriales."She's wrong.





	The Scorpion's Kiss

You keep your smile fixed, wondering how much longer you need to stay at this party before leaving would be seen as rude. You need the goodwill, but you’ve also got things to do. So you smile and listen and try to look interested and attentive. At first you barely notice the sensation of disquiet, attributing it to your anxiousness to be elsewhere, taking care of one of the many pressing issues that it seems only you can solve. Then you feel it more clearly, more distinctly: a waver of dread teasing over you.

_ “Darkness,” _ you remember. _ “The Dark Minions…” _ A few times before you have felt this creeping sensation, this growing tide of evil, thanks to your gift. _ A vampire? Here? _ Your smile, already strained, threatens to become a grimace. You’ll have to deal with this; you can’t leave this parasite to prey freely on those who intend to support and patronize the Scions. But at the same time it wouldn’t do to panic people, either. Best to deal with it quietly.

Finally a break in the conversation lets you excuse yourself gracefully. You make your way to the buffet table, grabbing some snacks that taste like cardboard in your anxious state and munching them mechanically as you stroll through the room. The feeling grows, and you pretend to drift aimlessly, working your way closer toward it, trying to pin down the source.

Your instincts lead you toward a man standing to one side, looking out over the crowd with a glass of wine in his hand. As you approach his head turns, his eyes seeking you unerringly. Your heart gives a lurch, suspicion blossoming, and then he smiles—smirks, rather, the expression confident and amused but not nice. _ Found you. _

“Sensed me, did you?”

You stop, your eyes narrowing as you study him. Like every vampire you’ve seen, he’s handsome, youthful. Dark blond sideburns trail down his jaw, and his hair sweeps up into a faux-hawk at the crest of his head. Chocolate eyes dance with mirth as he tips his head to one side.

“We meet at last, hunter. I am Nabriales… and you have long been a thorn in my side.”

Your hands tighten to fists, your palms itching for your daggers. But you can’t pull them out here, not with so many witnesses who would likely panic or misunderstand. And you need these people’s support. So you cross your arms instead. Surely the same logic will tie this Nabriales’s hands… and if it doesn’t, well, you’d be within your rights to defend yourself.

“Well? Did you come here simply to glare at me?”

In response to his mocking you put on a simpering smile. “Whatever do you mean? I just felt it a shame you were standing here all alone. I thought perhaps you could use some company.”

“Did you?” His eyes narrow on you. The feeling of darkness swirling around you intensifies for a second. “And what manner of company would you provide, I wonder…”

Your smile widens, teeth showing and ruining your innocent demeanor. “Well, I thought maybe you would enjoy going somewhere a bit more… private?”

He throws his head back, laughing deeply, genuinely. “Ahh, but of course. How silly of me not to see it at once.” His smile turns dark, threatening. “Foolish hunter. You think yourself a match for_ me?” _

You match his hard smile. “I have yet to meet someone I couldn’t best.”

He drains the dregs of his cup, sets it aside, and walks up to you, the smile transforming to become more of a sneer. “Well then, mark today’s date in your calendar, and mark my words well: you have just met him. Should you wish to put my words to the test, you will find me waiting in the ballroom of the old Dih manor.” He stops too close and tips your chin up with a finger. You bat his hand aside, earning a chuckle. He leans close, letting his voice drop. “But be warned—I will not toy with you as does Lahabrea. Should you be foolish enough to challenge me, I will teach you a lesson you will remember for the rest of your life… assuming you survive it.” Grinning, he draws back, sauntering past you toward the room’s exit.

You glance around, heart racing, hoping no one noticed your conversation. No one seems to be staring, at least, and you hurry after Nabriales. Surely it will be fine if you leave now; you put in a good appearance, and the crowd seems to be thinning. But as you slip out the door you see him burst into a swarm of bats and wing away, far too fast for you to follow. Undeterred, you make your way toward the abandoned mansion he indicated.

You consider calling for backup with your linkpearl, but last you knew the Scions were scattered far and wide, dealing with myriad issues. Plus, if this Nabriales is as dangerous as he claims, you don’t want to expose them to that danger; your gift makes you immune to turning or becoming his thrall, but none of the others save Minfilia can boast the same protection, and she is not much of a hunter, preferring instead to coordinate your group’s movements and plans.

It is child’s play to find a tumbled portion of iron fence and slip onto the mansion’s grounds. You make your way through the stagnant, overgrown gardens, moving as quietly as you can. The ballroom opens directly to these gardens, but you pause before entering, letting your eyes adjust to the gloom as much as possible. The doors are ajar, and you sidle through them, senses alert and expecting an attack at any moment.

To your surprise, though, no attack comes, and you find Nabriales standing in the open, in the middle of the ballroom floor. A beam of moonlight bathes him from the skylight above, and he turns around.

“So you decided to come after all? Unwise, but your bravery at the least is commendable.” He makes a sweeping gesture with one hand, an invitation, and you seize your daggers, their comfortable weight in your hands like the touch of an old friend. You dart in, spinning, blades biting as you work your way behind him, but he retaliates with a sphere of lightning, staggering you. You whirl, twist, blades always leading, driving up and down the length of the shadowy room. He draws out dark magic, sending it flashing at you. Some you manage to dodge, leaving them to further chip at the already damaged walls, but plenty of his attacks strike home, enervating you.

Weariness begins to dog your bones, but he seems to be tiring as well. You decide to take a risk, leaping in for an assassinating strike, and he does… something. Something you’ve never seen before. For a few seconds, time slows to a crawl, and he moves out of the strike, sending you crashing to the ground with one last spell. With a curse, you slump to one knee, your knives clattering out of your hands. He strides toward you, grinning, a sphere of darkness growing in one hand.

_ Damn! _ You had been sure you could take him out. You’ve never seen a vampire cast magic like that—a moment ago you’d have said it was impossible. He looms over you, and you bare your teeth, too winded to snarl defiance at him. But after a second the darkness fades to nothing, and he tips your chin up.

“I’m tempted to simply end your miserable existence here and now… Alas, Elidibus would never let me hear the end of it.”

_ Elidibus? Does he know that white-clad vampire that spoke with Minfilia? The one who tested my abilities? _

He releases a vexed sigh and grabs you by the shoulder, lifting you as though you weighed no more than a rag. “For wasting my time and energy, you get to sate my hunger tonight.”

“What?” you croak out, blinking at him, then pushing feebly as he pulls your body close to his. You twist, trying to break free, but his grip tightens before you can escape, bringing your back against his chest rather than your front. Somehow this is worse, not being able to see him, and you redouble your ineffectual struggles.

“Oh, for the love of…” he growls, one arm locking around you, just below your breasts. “Stop struggling. You’ll just make it hurt.”

“Hurt more, you mean?” you bite back, and you feel his laugh vibrate through you as his other hand locks on your chin, forcing your head up and to one side.

“I meant what I said. Have you truly never experienced one of my kind’s bite before, hunter?”

“No!”

You can’t help but keep fighting as you feel his breath on the side of your neck, warm and close. You grit your teeth, bracing yourself. You start at the touch of his lips, surprisingly soft, on your vulnerable skin.

“Mmm…” he murmurs. “So jumpy, hunter… You should relax.”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. Surely he’s joking. But his fingers release your chin, wrapping gently around your throat, his thumb coming back to massage the muscle just to the side of your spine. He presses at the base of your skull and draws downward, then repeats the motion, and again. To your utter disbelief it actually feels pretty nice. You hadn’t realized how much tension was thrumming through your neck and shoulders. Of course, getting your ass handed to you by a vampire sure didn’t help with that. But you realize you haven’t stopped or slowed down in… gods, months at the least. Despite yourself, you can’t help but lean into the touch a little, and it is in that moment that he strikes.

You jerk, gasping as twin lances of pain pierce your throat, and his hand seizes your chin before you can react further. Almost as soon as the pain begins, though, it dulls, and you feel something begin to spread from the bite’s location. It feels like heat, sluggish, oozing through you, spreading slowly toward your chest. Once there, it works its way throughout your body, leaving you dizzy in his arms. He’s sealed his lips on your neck, but you barely notice it, your heart speeding up from the bubbly sensation rising in you. It’s almost like your blood has turned to champagne, and you stifle a giggle at the thought.

The sensation builds until you’re filled with a strange light-headed joy. _ Is it always like this? _ you wonder. _ Is this why some mortals serve them? _ The sensation of his lips on your throat, the suction, grows almost unbearably pleasurable, sending warmth sluicing through you. Your breathing speeds up, growing shallower. His fingers slide along your jaw, leaving your skin tingling, eventually working their way into your hair and stroking your scalp. You let your head rest on his palm, your eyes sliding closed.

He drinks from you in a rhythm, lips tightening with each pull, then relaxing as he swallows. Occasionally his tongue flicks over the punctures, sending shivers through you each time. You realize you’re moving in tandem with his rhythm, arching as the suction grows and relaxing to slide down when it releases. Either the feeding or your movement is affecting him; you can feel his erection pressed against your ass. You rub against it a bit more deliberately, and whatever laces your blood amplifies the pleasure, sending it crashing over itself again and again, building. He groans as you press harder, needy, and his lips break their seal on your neck.

“Do not give me ideas, hunter.” The tenor voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it, almost a purr. Rebellious—and a little drunk on the sensation coursing through you—you repeat the motion, grinding back against him again. His intaken breath is a hiss, and you can’t hold in a gasp when his lips brush your ear. “I mean it,” he growls, threat lacing his tone.

In your state it doesn’t have the intended effect; the excitement, the danger makes your heart beat yet faster, and you arch again as his lips return to your throat.

“Oh,” you cry, “please…”

He groans again, the sound vibrating through your neck, and drops his hand from your hair to grip your hip, pulling you more firmly against him. You whimper as the pleasure spikes abruptly, and he rips his mouth off your neck, sending his tongue gliding up the rim of your ear. His pants leave your moist skin alternately hot and cold. For a moment he hovers there, catching his breath.

“As... _ entertaining _ as it is to hear you beg, I must insist you stop, for both of our sakes.” His voice, previously oil-smooth, has gone rough, and your breath catches at the realization that _ you _ did this to him, to his composure. You turn your face toward him, as far as you can.

“Please,” you moan again, “I want—”

His lips seal over yours, cutting you off before you can finish your sentence. You get an impression of slitted eyes and a snarl as he moves in, and then your eyes fall closed as his hips roll against you, slowly, his erection rubbing its way toward the cleft of your cheeks. You arch in instinctive response, bringing your weeping core closer to him, trembling with strain and need. You whimper into his mouth as his tongue strokes yours, and his hips move again, rocking under you, a faint tremor juddering through him as he fights to keep control of the motion.

With a rough sound he pulls back, his head falling onto your shoulder, his hand flexing on your hip.

“Please,” you beg once more, your voice husky, and you feel him mouth something harsh against your skin. He bites you again, fangs piercing you, and this time the feeling is ecstasy rather than agony. You cry out, shivering, arching against him, and his hips surge in an abortive movement as the pleasure scouring your veins redoubles, weakness stealing over you bit by bit and leaving you limp and quiescent in his arms.

“Perhaps now," he pants, "you will take my advice, and simply _ relax.” _ His mouth closes on your neck again, and you have no choice; you’re too dizzy, too blissed, too weak to move or even speak. You drift as he holds you, the feeling of him cradling you, his lips moving on you, sucking, lulling you until your eyes grow too heavy to hold open.

* * *

You wake in darkness, in an unfamiliar room. After a confused second you realize you’re in a partially ruined bedroom; you must be somewhere in the Dih manor. You sit up, looking for your daggers, and freeze when you hear a voice. _ His _voice.

“Have you returned to your senses?”

You spot him at the room’s broken window. He stands partially turned away from it, in profile. Fear pings through you as you realize how vulnerable you are; you raise a hand to your neck, surprised to find a bandage covering your bites.

“More or less,” you mumble, sitting up. “Where are my daggers?”

“How should I know?” He shrugs. “It’s hardly my job to keep track of your things.”

Back in the ballroom, then, no doubt. Your face goes hot as you remember what happened after your defeat.

“I should kill you for that.”

“For what?” A glint of teeth in the darkness. “For sparing your life? For refusing an invitation I knew you would regret?” He saunters over, obviously seeing you as little threat without your weapons. “You should _ thank _ me.”

Your jaw drops. _ “Thank _ you? For… feeding from me?!”

“For exhibiting frankly admirable restraint.”

Your mouth works in infuriated shock, then you grit your teeth. “Right,” you snap. “Are you going to kill me now, or get out of my way?”

He chuckles. “I would hardly go to this trouble if I meant to kill you.” He moves, unhurried, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. “Not to worry, I won’t tell any of your _ friends _ how you begged for me.”

Your face grows even hotter at the reminder. Memory rushes in, the feel of his lips on your throat… the feel of his lips on yours. His hand on your hip. You breathe deeply, trying to push it away. “Why did you stay here?”

He pauses, seeming surprised by the question. “I do not usually deliver nearly that much venom to my meals. As I previously indicated, Elidibus seems to think there might be some… use for those with your gift. Had I let you die, the lectures would have been,” he shudders, “interminable.”

“Wait.” You frown. “Then how do you normally do it? How do you,” you flush, “get people to let you feed if you don’t get them all loopy like that?”

He looks at you for a moment, then shakes his head in plain despair. “You really know nothing at all about us, do you? Seduction first; only then do you administer the aphrodisiac. To do otherwise takes all the challenge out of it.”

“Then why did you…” You refuse to look away as your face goes hot again.

“Why did I give you so much? Or why didn’t I seduce you first?” He laughs. “I didn’t expect to get anywhere with that, and you are…” He pauses, regards you almost seriously. “Remarkably resilient, for a mortal. I did not want you getting away.” He gives you a slow, spreading grin. “Although, if you are curious, I could demonstrate my usual methods. Without the feeding, of course; that’s already been taken care of.” He grins, holding a hand out to you.

A vehement “no” dies on your lips as your heart kicks in your chest. You know you shouldn’t, that it’s a bad idea, that he can’t be trusted…

He notices your hesitation and comes close, his grin broadening. “A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, my dear. Doubly so for one in your profession…”

When you speak, it is a bare whisper. “The next time we meet… I expect to be stronger. I will not hold back. I-if I have to, I’ll kill you. This is just... what I do.”

He leans closer, his lips grazing your cheek. “That should probably not be as… stimulating as I find it. I, for my part, will do what I must as well… to survive, to carry out Lord Zodiark’s will. Though should I defeat you again, I may demand another taste of your blood.”

You let out a breathy chuckle at the thought, raising your hand to his shoulder, letting it slide up his neck as he pulls back to look at you. Your heart races as he leans in to kiss you, a gentle press of lips giving way to slow caresses. He sucks your lower lip in between his teeth, and you gasp as one fang _ barely _ pricks it. Heat floods from the spot, and his tongue flicks out to catch the tiny drop of blood that wells out. He releases your lip, eyes heated and dark, and eases you back against the bed. You let him lay you out on it, and he straddles you, fingers working your top loose. With it out of the way you release the ties of your breastband.

He grins up at you before kissing his way down your chest. He alternates kisses with randomly placed pricks of his teeth, and each time you gasp, writhing as pleasure spreads from the invisible marks. It isn’t overwhelming like before, but the unexpected nature, the anticipation, steals your breath. His tongue swirls a circle around your navel as he releases the tie of your pants, and then he continues downward, alternating between your legs until he reaches your ankles and leaves you totally bare before him. Hands clenched on the mattress beneath you, you watch as he strips his own clothing off, revealing lightly tanned muscle.

It really is unfair how beautiful vampires are; you can’t help but stare, and of course he catches you at it, giving you a saucy wink that draws a burst of laughter from you. Then he settles between your legs, nudging your thighs apart and sliding his hands up their insides. You shudder as his fingertips tease your folds apart and one clever finger darts inside, stroking out slowly. He repeats the motion, delving deeper each thrust, until your hips are moving with him. You give a strangled cry as his mouth seals on your thigh, teeth slicing in and releasing a larger burst of whatever venom had you so blissed out before. He pulls back, licking the spot, causing it to tingle pleasantly.

You pant as the sensation spreads through your leg and up to your abdomen, your muscles tightening and releasing with each thrust of his fingers. His tongue flicks over the nub at the apex of your folds, and you cry out, surging up off the bed beneath him. He gives a throaty chuckle and does it again, again, hand moving faster as he brings you to the edge… and stops, leaving you there. You give a strangled whimper, swiping hair out of your eyes as you look at him, wondering _ why. _ But he’s moving up your body now, barely pausing to bite the underside of your breast before his lips lock onto yours. You taste a hint of yourself as his tongue plumbs your mouth, and then he eases your legs a bit farther apart, positioning himself at your entrance.

You dig your nails into his shoulders when he pauses, making him chuckle. “Impatient, my dear?”

“Yes,” you gasp, wiggling your hips and wringing a hiss from him.

“Let it not be said that I do not oblige,” he murmurs, and gives a languorous, teasing thrust, working his way in by slow fractions of an ilm before backing up to repeat the motion. At the same time, he kisses his way up your jaw, giving you a nip behind the ear and making you groan. He laves attention on the spot, slowly filling you deeper and deeper with each movement of his hips. His lips find the corner of your jaw and begin to trace its edge. Still aching from when he left you at the edge of orgasm, you bite his neck where it lies so neatly presented to you.

“Oh…”

You grin; you’d hoped that would get a reaction, and his sudden deep thrust and cry of pleasure are everything you’d hoped for. He shudders atop you, and you let your teeth scrape over his skin as you draw back. When he recovers enough to raise his head, his eyes are molten, his teeth bared, and your heart lurches at the blatant display of fangs. When he starts moving again, there’s nothing teasing about the way he drives into you. His mouth ravishes yours, the dual assault leaving you needy, pliant in his arms. He punctures your lip again, more venom making you moan into his mouth. Your hips rise to meet his rhythm, abdomen rippling as your pleasure builds back up to a peak.

Panting, he trails kisses down your throat, one hand working its way between your bodies. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles into it through your folds.

“Oh, Nabriales,” you moan, your gasping breaths turning to sobs timed to his thrusts. With one final cry, you tip over the precipice, and he makes a choked sound, thrusting once, twice, and shuddering, pulsing into you. His thumb doesn’t stop until you relax with a whimper, and for a moment you just lie beneath him, relishing the weight of him pressing you down until he rises with a groan and withdraws, lying beside you and stroking a hand up your torso languidly. After a minute he sighs and sits up.

“Dawn approaches, I fear, and I must depart.” He strides to the window, still naked, magnificent, and turns back with a smile. “Perhaps we may meet again in peace. But if not, I’ll be sure to defeat you again.” His form breaks apart into a whirling mass of bats which stream out of the window and over the tops of the houses, disappearing quickly from your sight. You sit up as well, smiling, vision blurry.

“I hope so,” you whisper.


End file.
